The First Games
by QuafflePurple31154
Summary: Has anyone ever wondered what the first games were like? This story is told from the POV of Parry Naysmith, the first girl tribute ever from District 12. This is my first story, so sorry if it's not great, but I hope you like it! Sorry if I take a while to upload the chapters Rated T mostly because of the Genre
1. Nowhere To Run

NOWHERE TO HIDE  
I run through the woods, faster than I've ever run before. 4 weeks, ago, I would never have been able to match this pace, but over the past month, I've managed to drop what little fat I had, replacing it with lean, hard muscle. There are just 2 of us left. She can probably hear me; she may be watching my every move. But at this moment I don't care.  
I risk a glance back at the muttation pursuing. It's getting closer; I can see the madness in its eyes as it closes down on its prize. As I turn my eyes back to the front again, I put a foot wrong. I suddenly find myself on the ground. I stand up and whirl around to face the muttation again. I contemplate running, but it's too late. The beast is upon me. I can feel it's hot breath upon my face, see its salivating tongue as it opens its jaws to devour me, piece by piece…..


	2. Announcements

_4 Weeks Earlier  
_"Parry! PARRY! Come down, now!"  
I slowly slide off my bed, reluctant to leave my bedroom, where I have been spending most of my time since my father's head was chopped off at the end of the rebellion 2 weeks ago. He had given his life after five years fighting for a better life, all for nothing. I slouch downstairs, and find myself facing my mother. The dimming light doesn't quite cover the dark circles under her eyes.  
"There you are. There's an announcement in the square in about ten minutes, straight from the Capitol itself!"  
The Capitol? Despite my mood, I find myself curious. The Capitol severed all attachments with the now 12 districts of Panem after it executed the rebels. Although anything from them was bound to be bad, I find myself wanting to hear it.  
10 minutes later, I'm standing in the square, alongside my brothers Griffin and Thorburn. Whispers are running through the crowd. My best friend, Tule sidles up to me.  
"My sister says that the Capitol have forgiven us for the rebellion and are going to send us food!" she whispers excitedly. Can this be true? Probably not.  
The crowd descends into hush when a woman totters onto the platform. Everything about her screams Capitol. Her hair is dyed a wild green colour and on her cheeks are intricate blue swirls. She taps the microphone twice, as if testing it.  
"District 12," she trills. "I have great pleasure in bringing you a message all the way from our good president, Tiberius Snow himself!"  
A message from President Snow? I look over at Tule, who is gaping at me, alarm in her eyes. Whatever this message is, it can't be good.  
The screen behind the woman bursts into life, to reveal President Snow, sitting in his plush, red chair in his mansion, while the districts of Panem starve.  
"Panem, I address you all the way from the Capitol itself. I'm sure none of you have forgotten the horror of the past few years and are relieved it's over and are glad we, the Capitol are letting you live in peace and harmony. However, it is now decreed that each year, the 12 districts of Panem shall offer up each young man and woman for the honour of representing their districts in the annual Hunger Games. They shall be trained in the art of survival and then fight to the death until the last remaining tribute is left standing. That winner shall have eternal glory and the honour of mentoring the next year's tributes from their district." The screen goes blank and we are left in stunned silence.  
The Hunger Games? What idiot came up with that? My hate for the Capitol has just doubled. How can they just sit, and watch a reality TV show where children kill each other, as though it's some sort of sport? My heart skips a beat when I realise that I am just 16, meaning I am not safe from these games. Neither is Griffin, at 17, or Thorburn, at 12. I silently pray neither of them, especially Thorburn, is picked.  
Meanwhile, two large bowls have been brought on the platform. My heartbeat increases as I realise that they are going to pick the tributes now.  
The Capitol woman on the platform smiles at us, as though we're in for a treat. "My name is Sylvie Fairbain and I am delighted to pick the two tributes for the first ever Hunger Games! Ladies first!"  
She smiles again, before fishing around in the bowl. My heart is now beating so fast I'm surprised Tule can't hear it. After some more pointless fishing around, her hand closes on some paper. She dramatically removes it from the bowl, before clearing her throat  
"Parry Naysmith."  
_No. _My name must have been one in one thousand. How could it have been picked? I feel Tule, Griffin and Thorburn's eyes on me.  
Up on the platform, Sylvie calls out "Come on Parry, up you come, so you can see all the smiling faces!"  
Putting one foot in front of the other, like someone's doing it for me, I slowly walk up to the platform, mount the steps and take my place beside Sylvie. She smiles at me again.  
"Well, hello, Parry and congratulations! Would you like to do the honours of picking your fellow tribute?"  
Slowly, I shake my head. _Like hell I would._ Sylvie shrugs, and dramatically repeats the process of picking a tribute.  
"Raff Erwin"  
A boy of about 18, who's built like a tank, detaches himself from the crowd and confidently strides up to Sylvie and I. My heart sinks as I realise I have no chance against this guy. He has rock hard muscles that could snap my neck like a twig. Sylvie beams. To be honest, all this smiling was getting on my nerves.  
"Well, there we are, ladies and gentleman. I give you the District 12 tributes Parry Naysmith and Raff Erwin!"  
To my relief, no one applauds. Why would they. This new thing is sick – making children kill each other.  
Sylvie laughed awkwardly. "Well, we're all different. Come on tributes, follow me and remember. May the odds be ever in your favour!"


	3. Goodbyes

Like a robot, I follow Sylvie. I find myself in the Justice Building, somewhere I've never had the honour of going to. I'm shoved into a room by a guard in a white uniform who says:  
" You have one hour."  
One hour? For what? To prepare myself before I'm shoved into an arena of death? The door behind me opens and my mother, closely followed by Griffin and Thorburn, rushes in. She doesn't say anything, just holds out her arms. I rush into them, and all the feelings that have been bubbling up boil over. I know I shouldn't cry, it just makes it worse for everyone, but I can't help it. I'm scared, and I don't even try to hide it. When I finally let go of my mother, I turn to Griffin and Thorburn. I don't hug them, as I know they have no wish to be cried on. I smile at them weakly. When he sees I've pulled myself together, Griffin gives me a hug, followed by Thorburn. Thorburn looks me straight in the eye.  
"You have to win, Parry. Then you'll be able to come home to us again."  
Griffin nods his agreement. "If you win, I heard the Capitol moves you into a bigger house in the Victors' Village. Just think! We'll get to move into a house even bigger than the one we have now!" That makes me laugh. Our house is like every other house in the Seam – not much more than a shed.  
There's a soft knock at the door. It opens, revealing Tule. She looks at me with moist eyes.  
"You're allowed to take a token with you into the arena. I'd feel a lot better if you had this with you." She holds out some sort of pin with a bird in flight. I look at it closer. It's a mockingjay.  
"Take it," said Tule. "It was my fathers. He made it when he realised what the mockingjays could be used for." I take it and hug her as well.  
I dry my eyes and address all of them.  
"I promise I will try and win. For all of you. I'll wear the pin with pride and not take it off until I return home, safe and sound."  
Tule forces a laugh, as if to lighten the atmosphere and pretend I'm not facing certain death. We spend the rest of the hour closely huddled together, in companionable silence.  
The door opens again and the guard in white uniform strides into the room.  
"Times up." He grabs hold of me and drags me out the room. It's not until I'm on the train with Raff that I realise I didn't get a chance to say goodbye.


	4. Train

Once on the train, I'm shown to a car where Raff is already waiting in a smart leather chair. Next to him is an identical empty one, which I lower myself into.  
"Some day, huh?" he murmurs. For a moment, I contemplate not answering him – after all we are opponents in a death match – but then I realise if I am friendly with him, he may avoid trying to kill me. I nod.  
"The Capitol have never been exactly friendly, but I'd never have thought they could come up with something as sadistic as this?"  
Before he has a chance to answer the door swings open, revealing a large Capitol man, with tanned skin. Surprisingly, the only thing that gives him away as a Capitol citizen are some silver zigzags on his left cheek. He gives us a half-smile.  
"I realise right now that someone from the Capitol is probably the last person you want to see, given the present circumstances, but I am someone you have to trust. My name is Marcus, and I'll be your mentor for the Games. I'll be teaching you how to survive and I'll be getting you sponsors, who can send you gifts, such as better weapons, and food. If all goes well, and one of you survives, then that person will be replacing me as mentor next year."  
There's a silence before Raff speaks up.  
"You're from the Capitol. What do you know about survival?"  
Marcus hesitated before he spoke again. "I fought on the Capitol side in the rebellion, but it wasn't so glamorous for me. I was sent to live in the woods for the best part of a year to spy. There I learnt about making food and how to fight. I can guess that your parents were part of the rebellion, so you probably don't want to trust me, and if you don't want to then fine. But on your head be it."  
I ponder these last words. If he fought on the Capitol's side, that meant he was our enemy. But over the next few weeks, he'll be keeping us alive. I give him a single nod. Raff however folds his arms in a defiant gesture. I expect Marcus to say something to him, but he just stands up and says "time for dinner," before walking out the carriage. I think of saying something to Raff to make him change his mind, but one look at his expression changes my mind, so I follow Marcus into the meal carriage.  
Sylvie and Marcus are waiting for me, sat at a polished oak table. I plonk myself in one of the equally polished chairs and tell them that Raff is going to be a while. As if on cue, Capitol attendees appear out of nowhere, bearing plates with domed lids on them. One is carefully placed in front of me. Suspiciously, I take off the lid. On the plate is a pinkish meat with lettuce and egg.  
"Err… what is it?"  
Marcus smiled while Sylvie sighed. "It's lobster meat, Parry. Surely you must have had lobster?"  
I ignore that comment, and tentatively take a bite. I know it isn't good manners to nibble your food, but given I'm facing certain death; I feel I have an excuse to ignore table manners for a while. I chew it slowly. It tastes surprisingly good, and the salad is gone within a couple of minutes. Almost immediately, another plate is placed in front of me. I lift the lid of expecting another fancy Capitol dish, but I am pleasantly surprised. I recognise this one; venison stew with broccoli on the side. Before he died, my father taught me how to handle a spear and a knife, so I sometimes go hunting in the woods, even though we weren't supposed to. On the one occasion I caught a deer, it fed my family for a week. It was absolutely delicious.  
When I'm about halfway through the dish, Raff finally walks in. He glares at Marcus, and sits down. He eats his meal in a sullen silence.  
When I finish the venison stew, I'm almost sad. I probably won't get a chance to eat such a delicacy again, even if I do make it out of this hell alive. Pudding seems to be a strange, creamy-white cuboid with a red sauce on top. No way am I touching this without knowing what it is. I glance at Marcus for help, but it's Sylvie who answers.  
"It's a vanilla panna-cotta, with a strawberry coulis. Honestly. First lobster, now panna-cotta. Do you even eat in District 12. It's a wonder you aren't savages."  
I purse my lips and look at Raff, who's working hard to suppress a smile. It will be a wonder if I make it through the next few weeks without cracking Sylvie round the head.


End file.
